


Escape Mechanisms

by citrinesunset



Category: Torchwood
Genre: AU, M/M, Prison, Prison Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-29
Updated: 2010-11-29
Packaged: 2017-10-13 10:46:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/136471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/citrinesunset/pseuds/citrinesunset
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ianto is still in Torchwood prison. His cellmate, Jack, is helping him pass the time. But when a new inmate arrives who has a history with Jack, the small peace Ianto has found is jeopardized.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Escape Mechanisms

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel to [The Con](http://missdeanna.livejournal.com/14940.html). Follows directly afterward, so it's recommended that you read that first.
> 
> Warnings: Contains sex, violence, and somewhat dubious consent.

One night, Ianto asked, "Does this place ever get to you?"

He tried to keep his tone light, like the question had just popped into his head.

Jack chuckled. Without missing a beat, he said, "It's when it doesn't that you need to start worrying."

Now that Ianto thought about it, it had been a stupid question to ask. They were supposed to be bothered by prison. That was the point.

Jack had also told him, a few weeks ago, that almost everyone adjusted to prison with time. Ianto hadn't believed him then, but now he realized he was getting used to the routine.

But there were still times like right now, when he looked around his cell and it was too much to take in. Nights were the worst.

Ianto was sitting on his bunk with his back against the hard wall. It was after midnight and he knew it'd be hell to get up at seven-thirty. At least he wouldn’t have as much trouble sleeping the next night.

Sometimes, if Ianto thought Jack was asleep, he'd wank off, being careful not make too much noise or make a mess on his clothes or sheets. That helped him rest.

But Jack was up now, leaning against the wall in the shadows. The only light in the cell was the orange glow that came through the window from the lights on the prison wall. Ianto could just see the sheen of sweat on Jack's face, and the post-orgasmic flush of his cheeks.

They had sex—if one could call it that—two or three times a week, now. It was as much a part of the routine as anything else.

"Tell me something about yourself," Jack said.

"What?"

"Anything."

Ianto thought for a moment. "My father was a master tailor," he said. It wasn't true, and it wasn't the first time he'd lied to Jack. Ianto didn't feel guilty about it. Maybe he should have, but then, it wasn't like Jack shared anything about himself other than vague stories.

"That's something about your dad, not something about you."

"Okay, fine. It's been my birthday for about an hour now." That _was_ true, and Ianto hadn't known if he should mention it or not.

"Oh yeah?" Jack asked with a smile.

"Yeah. I'm twenty-four."

Jack's grin widened. "You're lucky you're not much younger, or they would have put you in borstal instead of sending you here."

Ianto huffed. "I'm not nearly that young. And they don't call it borstal anymore, do they? They're young offender institutions."

Jack shrugged and laughed. "Same thing."

Ianto turned on his back and stretched out on the bunk. "I was lucky, though. I just got warnings and probation when I was young. The closest I got to being locked up was this one time when the police put me in a cell until my dad could come get me."

"Good thing, too. By the time guys are old enough to get sent here, some of them have had a chance to mellow out."

Jack stretched his arms over his head and yawned. "I've got to get to sleep. Happy birthday." He climbed up to his bunk.

Ianto heard the sheets rustle, and then nothing. He flipped onto his stomach and buried his face in the pillow.

A week ago, he'd finally gone to the infirmary about his insomnia. Now, a nurse gave him a pill each evening. Ianto told Jack that he'd always suffered from insomnia, and was just having trouble without his usual medication. That was another lie, but it made him feel less pathetic.

He hadn't taken his pill tonight because he didn't want to be tired if Jack wanted to be with him. He had it under his pillow, and now he swallowed it dry.

With luck, he'd have a deep, dreamless sleep until he had to drag himself out of bed.

  


* * *

  
Everyone in Torchwood had to work if they were able. Ianto thought most of the jobs were like punishments, themselves.

"Listen, mate," Owen said, "all the jobs here are crap. What's it matter what they give you? It's all the same, innit?"

Ianto was sitting with Owen and Jack at a table in the wing. They'd just finished breakfast.

Ianto shrugged. "I'd rather work in the library than clean, though."

"Everyone wants jobs like library work," Jack said. "And you get the worst jobs when you're new since nobody else wants them. Why don't you apply for the woodworking shop? There are always openings there. You could work with me."

"Yeah," Ianto said. "Maybe."

Honestly, he didn't fancy the thought of making chairs in the shop either, even if meant working with Jack. Actually, he wanted to do something away from Jack.

Jack had been a good friend over the past month, but it was hard on Ianto not to have any time to himself. The closet he came to being alone was when he busied himself with things that didn't interest Jack and Owen.

He'd even started going to the Anglican services in the chapel on Sundays, though he hadn't been to church in years.

Owen leaned forward and looked at something in the distance. "Oi, look who's back."

Jack turned around to look, and Ianto tried to see what Owen was talking about. Owen indicated the staff office, which was on the other side of the metal gate leading out of the wing.

Sitting on a table in the office, laughing about something with the officers on duty, was Mr. Saxon, the prison governor. Saxon had been gone for the past two weeks, and now he had a fresh tan.

"I was hoping that bastard wouldn't come back," Owen said.

"Of course he was coming back," Jack said with a scoff. "He only went on holiday."

"What have you got against him?" Ianto asked Owen.

Jack smiled. "Saxon's the one who made him take anger management."

Owen had to go to sessions twice a week. He refused to tell Ianto why, but Jack had confided that it was because Owen trashed his cell a while back. Ianto could understand Owen's grievance. Owen had a mean streak, but it wasn't like he beat anyone up. But Torchwood was picky about how they kept their cells. They weren't even allowed to go to breakfast if they hadn't made their bunks.

Jack turned to Ianto. "Hey, I bet Saxon will be in a good mood for a while, fresh back from holiday. Put in your request for the library job before it wears off."

  


* * *

That night, Ianto played chess with Jack after lockup. The set belonged to Jack. The board was made out of cardboard, and was water-damaged at one corner, but it did the job and they had all the pieces.

They were both good, and both won their share of games. Tonight, Jack was winning, and he didn't even bother to put on a poker face.

To Ianto's pride, however, it still took over an hour for Jack to put him in checkmate. While they were putting away the game, Jack said, "Sorry you've got to spend your birthday in here."

Ianto shrugged. "Happens to a lot of people, I suppose."

He didn't mention his disappointment when he hadn't received any cards. He'd never cared about that sort of thing before, but this year he did. Jack would probably remind him that the post was always slow.

He stood up, but Jack put a hand on his arm and pulled him close. Ianto bent down when Jack tugged on his sleeve and he let Jack kiss him on the lips.

Ianto would be lying if he pretended it didn't feel good.

Common sense told him that this whole arrangement they had was probably a bad idea. He knew it was likely against the rules, and he knew it wasn't smart to suck Jack's dick without a condom. He knew, too, that a sensible person might tell him the whole deal was dodgy in the first place, that Jack was a con man and could tell Ianto whatever he wanted him to think.

But it felt good to touch someone, and to have a part of his life that wasn't controlled by the rules imposed on him. That was all that mattered, surely.

Jack undid his fly and Ianto sank to his knees between Jack's legs. Jack slouched in his chair and lifted his hips so Ianto could pull down his boxers.

Ianto pushed up the front of Jack's shirt and laid a kiss on his stomach. Jack had a scar on his abdomen, an old one. Ianto ran his thumb over it.

Jack peered down his chest and smiled. "You like it? Makes me look tough, doesn't it?"

Ianto raised an eyebrow. "A bit."

"You better believe it. I got it in a fight."

Ianto kissed the scar and reached for Jack's dick.

It never took long. Only a little longer than it took to get ready for bed or write an entry in his diary. When it was done and Jack was sleepy-eyed and sweaty, a good ten minutes might have passed.

After Ianto washed his hands, he sat on his bunk while Jack collected himself. Ianto grabbed a pen and opened his diary to write. He never wrote anything too personal these days, because he didn't think he could rely on privacy. That limited him. He was saved the effort of thinking of something to say when Jack sat beside him on the bunk.

Ianto looked at him. "What is it?"

"It's your birthday. I thought you might want to do something for it."

Before Ianto could ask what that meant, Jack put a hand on Ianto's thigh and slid it inward towards his crotch. Jack's hand was warm and heavy. Ianto inhaled and held in his breath, tensing his back.

Jack lightened his touch. "Only if you want to, of course. You'll like it, though. Trust me."

Sure he would. Ianto spread his legs a little and said, "All right."

His heart was pounding now. Jack had never touched him before, and Ianto hadn't thought this was a part of whatever they had.

"You wanna know something?" Jack said. "I've been wanting to do this."

It'd never occurred to Ianto that Jack might be attracted to him. In retrospect, he should have known it was at least possible.

Ianto lay back and put his head on the pillow. He swallowed. "I've never done this before."

Jack chuckled. His fingers were unbuttoning Ianto's jeans. "I find _that_ unlikely."

"With a man, I mean. The receiving part."

Jack smiled and shook his head. "You don't have to do anything. It's just a hand job. Relax."

Ianto closed his eyes and drew deep, even breaths. It felt like it’d been a very long time since anyone touched him. He supposed it had been. He tried to relax.

Sex at Torchwood always felt risky, like he was a teenager wanking in his room, worried about his mam coming in without knocking. He felt it even more now, lying still with his dick in Jack’s fist. He wondered what it would be like, being with Jack in a proper bedroom with true privacy. But he doubted he and Jack would ever have come together in another place.

Ianto felt pleasantly warm. The back of his neck was sweaty against the pillow. Jack's hands were callused but his touch was gentle.

Ianto came quickly. He arched his back and moaned through his teeth. He felt the wetness of his come on his stomach, and was glad he'd thought to pull up his shirt.

"I'll get you some toilet paper to clean up," Jack said.

Jack handed him a wad of toilet paper and then walked over to the sink.

Ianto sat up and asked, "Are you gay?"

Jack looked at him in the mirror over the sink. “Does it matter? ‘Cause if it does, that’s a weird hang-up to have, considering what we’ve been doing.”

Ianto’s ears burned. “I didn’t mean it like that. I was just wondering. I thought you had a girlfriend, is all. You know, the blonde girl."

Jack kept her picture on the wall these days, and had several more pictures of her in an old biscuit tin with his letters. Jack smiled when Ianto mentioned her.

"I've fancied a lot of people. But Rose isn't my girlfriend."

"I've seen her before," Ianto said. "In the papers, I think."

"You probably would have. She was in the news a while back."

Ianto remembered, now: the Bad Wolf Robber, she'd been called. He couldn't remember how she'd gotten that name. He didn't say anything more; he thought it might be rude. It was a little exciting to think of Jack having high-profile criminals as friends.

Jack turned off the tap and dried his hands with his towel. "I've got a little money put away. When I get out, Rose and I are going to get a place in Spain."

"That sounds nice." When Ianto got out, he would need to stay with his sister for a bit, or maybe in a halfway house. He couldn't afford a new flat right away. "Maybe I could visit you guys."

Jack looked at him in the mirror with an odd half-smile. "Sure, maybe."

  


* * *

  
A few weeks later, some new men came onto the wing. Jack and Ianto were on the second story landing, watching through the metal security mesh.

Ianto didn't know how anyone else would fit in the wing. Most of the cells were already full, and the lines for meals and the phone were ridiculous.

"At least there are only two beds in our cell," Ianto said.

Jack snorted. "Wouldn't put it past them to squeeze in a third. Still, I've seen worse crowding than this. One time—"

Jack stopped talking and looked intently at the men entering the wing. His whole body seemed to tense, from his back to his jaw. Ianto tried to see what had gotten his attention, but couldn't tell which man he was looking at.

"What is it?" Ianto asked, after a moment.

Jack shook his head, but he kept his eyes glued on the people below. "Nothing. Thought I recognized someone, that's all."

Ianto could tell Jack wasn't going to share any more than that, so he left it. It was almost time for them to go out in the yard, anyway, and he was hungry for some fresh air.

Ianto didn't think much more of the newcomers or Jack's interest. He had other things to worry about. He'd put in an application to work in the library days ago, and was still waiting to hear something. And tomorrow, his sister was coming to see him. It would be his first visit.

But at dinner that evening, a stranger sat at the table Ianto shared with Jack and Owen. It was one of the men who'd arrived earlier.

"Hello, Jack," the man said with a smile. "I'm surprised you haven't welcomed me yet. Aren't you going to introduce me to your friends here?"

Jack tightened his jaw. "Guys," he said slowly, "this is John. We were locked up together before."

John looked around the table at Ianto and Owen. "That's right. John Hart. Pleased to meet you."

Owen looked at Jack, like he wanted a cue for how to act. Jack ignored him, though, and kept his eyes on John.

"What are you doing here?" Jack asked.

John snorted. "What? You think I had a choice in the matter? If you're not happy to see me, blame the judge."

John looked at Ianto and Owen and smirked. "So, you guys are Jack's mates in here? What are you guys in for? Shoplifting?"

"Assault," Owen said. "So don't piss me off, yeah?"

John chuckled. He looked at Ianto. "What about you? You're quiet."

"I just don't share things that aren't anyone's business," Ianto said.

"Have you been convicted yet?" Jack asked.

John nodded. "Looks like this is my new home for a while. I was thinking you could give me some tips. You know, I'm curious who's who around here. What type of business is going on."

"I'm not going to help you get a fix, John. You want a dealer, you can find one yourself."

John smiled. "You know I never needed help with that. But since when were you so uptight, anyway? What, you playing the reformed con, now? Thanks, I could use a laugh."

Jack leaned across the table. "You know what's funny? That you think you can just sit at my table and act like we're friends."

"Don't tell me you're still upset," John said.

Jack didn't answer him.

"Fine," John said, "you want to rehash old battles, ball's in your court, mate. Best watch your back, though." John took his tray and stood up. Before leaving, he said, "I'll catch you later, Jack."

The rest of their dinner was quiet. Jack didn't say anything, and Ianto sensed it wasn't the right time to ask about John. Even Owen was quiet.

After dinner, Jack went back to their cell, and Ianto followed.

Jack was looking out the window when Ianto came in. He had his arms on the window sill.

"I met John the first time I was locked up," Jack said. "I strongly suggest you stay away from him."

"Is he dangerous?" Ianto asked. He couldn't see Jack's expression.

"The last time I saw him, he stabbed me."

Ianto thought of the scar on Jack's stomach.

"Promise me you'll stay away from him," Jack said.

"All right," Ianto said. "I promise."

That night, Jack went straight to bed. Ianto watched, puzzled, while Jack climbed under the sheets. He rarely went to bed so early.

Ianto walked over to the bunks. "We could…do something, if you wanted." He reached out to touch Jack's arm, but Jack jerked it back.

"Not tonight. I'm beat."

Ianto blinked in confusion and disappointment. Jack put an arm across his eyes, and Ianto sat on his own bunk.

He felt stupid. This thing with Jack was just an arrangement they had, nothing more. He shouldn't have wanted it.

  


* * *

  
Before long, word got around that John Hart could get any sort of illicit substance anyone could want.

He also got a reputation for being someone to watch out for.

The latter started almost as soon as he arrived. His second night at Torchwood, John ignored the three warnings prior to lockup, and when Andy interrupted his pool game, he didn't even look up from his cue.

"Right, Blondie, I'll go in when I'm ready, yeah?"

Andy was nice enough for a screw, but he always seemed bewildered whenever someone talked back to him. Some of the guys took advantage of that, and gave him a hard time for a laugh, but not many rebelled so openly.

Andy blinked at him. "Oh yeah? Well, you'd best listen, or I'll have to put you on report. So would you go to your cell? Please?"

John ignored him. In the end, he waited until one minute before lockdown to go to his cell.

Now, there were some stories about him threatening people.

One afternoon, when Ianto was with Jack in the yard, Mark Lynch came over to them.

Ianto was still wary of Mark, even though Mark hadn't done worse than glare at him in weeks. He didn't know what Jack said or did to keep Mark off his back, but whatever it was, he was grateful.

This time, Mark only glanced at Ianto before heading towards Jack.

"Harkness," he said, "you'd better do something about that mate of yours, before he gets himself in trouble."

"What mate?" Jack said. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yeah you do. That new guy, Hart. He says you two are mates. Someone has to set him straight—he's acting like he owns this place."

"Not my problem, and he's not my mate."

Ianto could guess what Mark's problem was; Mark liked to think of himself a drug dealer, and probably didn't appreciate the competition.

"What's John done?" Ianto asked. "Make it harder for you to make people smuggle stuff in for you?"

Mark glared at him, but didn't reply. Instead, he looked at Jack and said, "I mean it. That John Hart is going to get himself hurt if he's not careful."

The next day, there was a commotion in John's cell. By the time Ianto got there, the place was surrounded by screws, and he couldn't see what was going on. After a few minutes, Mark Lynch was led out with a bloody nose.

John didn't get in any trouble. Word was, Mark swore it was an accident. No one believed it, and the event only served to bolster John's reputation. It even gained him some respect. Though it made him feel guilty, even Ianto liked seeing someone stand up to Mark.

Only Jack remained resolutely unimpressed. He said that John was vicious, and that his quick rise as the wing dealer was just luck.

Ianto didn't say anything, but he had to wonder if Jack felt threatened. Not just because of his fraught history with John, but because John could offer the men something much more enticing than the favors and friendship Jack offered.

And though Jack didn't say anything, Ianto wondered, too, if he felt he was in danger. Ianto noticed one morning that Jack had a plastic knife. He'd filed the blunt tip into a point, and he started keeping it in the waistband of his jeans.

One afternoon, Ianto was walking with Jack and Owen in the yard, and Jack hatched a plan.

"Owen," he said, "I want you to do me a favor."

"Depends," Owen said. "What is it?"

"Ask John to get you a bottle of vodka. Offer him some cigarettes."

"Are you fucking kidding me? I'm not giving that bastard my cigarettes."

"I'll get the cigarettes. Just ask him to get you some vodka, and don't let him know I'm behind it."

"Forget it, Harkness. That man is bad news. I know it when I see it."

They stopped by the stone wall, away from the other men. Through a nearby gate was the vegetable garden.

"I'll do it," Ianto said. "I don't mind."

"Thank you," Jack said, with a pointed look at Owen. "I'm glad _someone_ here trusts me."

Owen just shook his head. He pulled a cigarette out of his pocket and lit up.

"May I ask why you want to do this?" Ianto asked Jack.

"There's no way he could get some vodka in here. This operation of his is all talk. I just want to call his bluff, is all."

That evening, Ianto worked up the courage and went to John's cell. John was alone, sitting at the table and reading a magazine. The door to the cell was open, and Ianto rapped on the doorframe to announce his presence.

John leaned back in his chair and smiled. "Hello."

"I heard you can get things for people."

John nodded. "Close the door and we can talk."

Ianto stepped inside and closed the door so that it was only open a crack. John looked him up and down and cracked his knuckles.

"Jack know you're here?"

"No. I want some vodka."

John raised an eyebrow. "Well, aren't you to the point? I thought you'd be coming for painkillers. Heard that's your poison."

Ianto narrowed his eyes. "Well, you heard wrong, yeah?"

John held up his hands. "Fine, no need to get defensive about it. Just saying what I heard."

"Can you get the vodka or not?"

He expected a "no." He thought, like Jack seemed to, that John Hart was all bluff.

"What are you offering for it?"

"Six packs of cigarettes." Jack had them already, hidden beneath his spare pair of jeans.

John nodded. "Not the best offer, but all right. I'll get back to you. Now hurry on back to Jack before he gets suspicious."

"Jack isn't my keeper."

"Really? Could've fooled me, the way you stick to him."

Ianto didn't respond. He left John's cell, and went to tell Jack that the deal had been made.

  


* * *

  
Ianto did get the library job. Maybe Mr. Saxon _was_ in a good mood from his holiday, or perhaps the decision hadn't been his at all. Ianto wasn't sure, and didn't worry himself about it.

All things considered, getting the job was the first decent thing to happen to him in a while. It was the best work assignment he could have hoped for.

The library was in an older part of the prison, and Ianto could tell. It felt ten degrees cooler than the rest of the place, and the paint didn’t look like it’d been touched up in forty years.

Some of the books, too, had seen better days. There were a lot of yellow pages, worn-out spines, and useless and outdated content.

But Ianto was beyond being picky.

He'd also started taking a computer class. The work was below his level of experience, and the teacher had asked him to do tutoring.

He was reading at his desk during a quiet stretch when John came in. Ianto looked up, but John ignored him and began to browse the shelves. There was no one else in the library. It was only after a few minutes that John worked his way over to the desk and addressed Ianto.

"If you want to come by my cell later with those cigarettes, I've got something for you."

Ianto blinked, not understanding at first what John meant. "You got it?"

"Just come by later, and you can get it. Just don't let Jack now. I swear he thinks he's the moral authority of Torchwood."

"Jack's a good man," Ianto said.

John smirked and turned around to the shelf nearest Ianto. He ran his finger across the titles of the book without really looking at them.

"You don't know who you're defending," John said. "I know him a lot better than you do. Of course, Jack's very fond of you, isn't he?" John looked over his shoulder at Ianto and smirked. "I can see why. I'm sure you're a very enjoyable cellmate."

Ianto's cheeks grew hot. He wondered if he was turning red. "It's not like that," he said. "We're friends."

"Please, you're nothing more than eye candy. Let me guess: he told you he'd protect you if you had sex with him. Do you even know anything about him? He could be a killer for all you know."

"I doubt that."

"Hmm. You know, we were best mates for a while."

"Until you stabbed him, right?"

John shook his head. "I only gave him what he was asking for. No one felt sorry for him, I'll tell you that. Far as I'm concerned, he and I are even." He paused, and said, "You know, I gagged a lad and held him down once so Jack could cut off his little finger. All because he made a promise to Jack and didn't keep it. And now Jack likes to think he's so much better than everyone."

Ianto crossed his arms over his chest and fought a shiver. He pictured Jack doing what John described, but told himself it was a lie. He was about to say so out loud when the door opened and Mr. Saxon walked in.

Mr. Saxon liked to visit the library occasionally. Ianto had heard it was because he'd arranged for new books to be brought in a few years ago, and had felt a special pride for the library ever since. Considering the state of the books, Ianto didn't see what there was to be proud about.

Ianto looked down at the book on his desk, automatically trying to hide that he'd been talking to John. Mr. Saxon looked at the both of them and frowned.

"Not causing any trouble, are you?" Saxon asked John.

John raised an eyebrow. "I'm allowed to look at books, aren't I?"

But John didn't stick around to prove that was what he was doing. He walked past Saxon and out the door, glancing back at Ianto once more before leaving.

Once John was gone, Saxon turned to Ianto. "Jones, right?"

"Yes, sir," Ianto said.

"Jones, you're not being paid to fraternize."

Ianto kept his voice steady. "He was looking at books, sir." He knew Saxon didn't have anything sound to accuse him of, and normally he would merely be annoyed. But he worried Saxon had overheard something about the vodka deal.

"I'm familiar with that man," Saxon said. "He's trouble. You'd best steer clear of him."

"Even if he wants to check out a book?"

Saxon frowned. "This job is a privilege, Jones. You'd best take it seriously. And be careful what sort of friends you make. It's bad enough that you're under Mr. Harkness's influence."

With that, Mr. Saxon left, leaving Ianto feeling insulted and embarrassed. He spent the rest of his shift focused on his work, and tried not to dwell on John or what he'd said.

Despite the warning, that evening, Ianto got the cigarettes and brought them to John's cell.

John looked at them, and then got a bottle out from a hiding place under his bed. It was larger than Ianto had been expecting, but was only two-thirds full. Ianto took it and looked at the label.

"This isn't vodka," he said. "This is gin."

"So what? Liquor is liquor in here. It's a damn good deal, and you know it."

Ianto tipped the bottle from side to side. "It's been opened already."

John rolled his eyes. "Like I said, you can't be picky. Do you want it, or not?"

"Fine." It wasn't like he needed the cigarettes.

Ianto tucked the bottle under his shirt. The glass was cool against his skin, and he tried to arrange it so that it wouldn't be obvious.

When Ianto got back to his cell, Jack was there, sitting on his bunk. Ianto handed him the bottle.

"He actually got it?" Jack asked, his voice disbelieving. He looked at it. "This is gin."

"Still, impressive. Don't know how he could have smuggled a bottle like this in. I was expecting a small bottle, like they have in fancy hotels." He was a little disappointed; he'd always wanted one of those little bottles. "So, what are you going to do with it?"

Jack shrugged. "Doesn't matter. I'll get rid of it, I guess."

"You're not going to drink any?"

Jack shook his head.

Seeing Jack now, Ianto remembered what John had told him earlier. He didn't know if he believed John, but it didn't matter – it was hard not to think of it, and he wasn't sure he could spend association with Jack just now. He looked at the gin, still in Jack's hands.

"I'll give it to Owen, then, if you don’t mind. He'd like it."

"Do whatever you want."

Ianto took the bottle from Jack and put it back up his shirt. As an afterthought, he also grabbed his plastic mug that was on the table. He might as well have some drink, himself.

Owen was in his cell across the hall. His cellmate, Mickey, was also there. Ianto intended to get Owen's attention without revealing anything.

But Mickey looked at Ianto, who was awkwardly clutching the bulge in his shirt, and said, "Oi, you got something up your shirt or what?"

So the gin was shared among the three of them. Ianto didn't mind – there was plenty, and Mickey was a decent fellow. He was one of the best kitchen employees, and always told them what the best food was on the menu.

Ianto hadn't had a drink in almost three months, since the night before his sentencing. He wasn't a big drinker, and his tastes ran along the line of good lager and the occasional mixed drink. But he thought it would be stupid to pass up a drink now. Every scarce thing was valuable.

They spent the better part of evening association pouring shots of gin in their plastic cups. They agreed the bottle would need to be disposed of quickly, and Mickey promised to hide it in the kitchen rubbish, which he swore no one ever checked.

Ianto didn't return to his cell until the ten-minute warning came for lockup. Jack was sitting at the table reading a newspaper, and looked up when Ianto came in.

"Have fun?" he asked.

"You could have joined us," Ianto said.

"Nah, that's all right."

"John came by the library today, to tell me about the gin. He was telling me about when you two were in the nick together."

Jack didn't move, but his gaze wandered above the top of the paper. "You can't believe everything John says."

Ianto huffed. "Yeah, I think I have pretty good common sense."

Ianto wasn't going to push the issue. Did it really matter if he knew the details, and what was true? Would it change anything?

"I've done a lot of things I'm not proud of," Jack said. "I hurt some people. You have to understand, I've been around. It's taken me a while to figure some things out."

"Right."

"But I'm not that guy anymore."

Ianto nodded. "Of course. I understand." He walked past Jack and sat on his bunk. He felt unsteady and a little unwell. He probably shouldn't have drank as much as he did, and he hoped it'd be out of his system by morning.

Jack turned to face him. "I mean it."

Ianto got what Jack meant. He meant, "I won't hurt _you_." Maybe that was true, maybe not. Ianto had never had any doubt that Jack _could_ hurt him. He hadn't needed John Hart to tell him Jack could be dangerous. Until now, it'd just been easier to ignore it.

Ianto lay back on his bed and closed his eyes. He didn't want to think about Jack or what he might have done. Ianto had enough weighing on him. He was avoiding calling his sister because she always reminded him of the expenses that waited for him on the outside, and tried to convince him to move in with her when he got out.

Torchwood was starting to feel like a refuge.

  


* * *

  
The cell search came after breakfast the next day. One minute, Jack and Ianto were relaxing in their cell. The next, they were ordered to stand out in the hall until the search was complete.

The only consolation was that they weren't the only ones – the whole wing was being searched, and some men were taking it much worse than they were.

"Do you think you could tell us what this is about?" Ianto asked the two men who were searching their cell. He didn't get an answer, and he winced when he saw them roughly go through his and Jack's belongings.

"Hey," Jack called out, "if anything gets broken, I'm getting compensation."

They watched until the search was over. Then, Ianto spotted Andy and walked over to him. Andy had one hand on his hip and was running the other through his hair.

"Hey," Ianto asked, "what's going on here?"

"That's need-to-know, I'm afraid. Saxon's orders."

"Well, I think we deserve to know. We're the ones getting searched."

Andy looked around, making sure no one else was listening. "Something was stolen from Mr. Saxon's office. He's livid about it."

"What was it?"

When Andy looked at him skeptically, Ianto said, "Come on, you can tell me. I just want to make sure it's nothing I've seen around."

Andy liked to think of himself as the men's friend. It was easy to goad him.

"It was some liquor," Andy said. "A lot of it. Enough to open a pub, practically. Someone dressed up like a cleaner to get into the office, it seems. I'm glad I'm not the one who waved them through, or my arse would be on the line right now."

Ianto's stomach dropped. He had to tell Jack about this. First, he had to make sure the gin bottle was safely in the rubbish.

  


* * *

  
As soon as the search was over, and they were allowed to go about their business, John Hart asked to be allowed out of the wing to go to the art room. Jack waited a few minutes before following. He turned to Ianto and said, "Stay here."

For a minute, Ianto did. Then, he left the wing and made his way through the corridors, looking for the art room. He'd never been there before, but he knew it was near the chapel.

When he found the chipped sign that said "Art Room," he opened the door slowly. He could hear voices inside.

"This is stupid, even for you." It was Jack's voice.

"Please. Back when, you would have planned the whole thing. Or have you forgotten who taught me what I know?"

"Yeah, well I've learned. You obviously haven't."

"You haven't learned anything. You're institutionalized, that's what. These idiots have gotten to you. You're not half the man you were."

Ianto heard the sound of a punch being thrown. There were grunts, and the sound of a struggle. Without stopping to think, Ianto went through the door.

He was just in time to see John lunge at Jack. He watched while Jack reached into the waistband of his jeans and pulled out the makeshift blade. With one thrust, he drove it into John's thigh.

John howled in pain and looked like he might fall. But he threw himself into Jack, knocking them both down. He drew back his fist and punched Jack in the side of the head.

He would have punched him again, but Ianto rushed forward. He kicked John in the ribs. John yelped and fell back. Ianto looked around and saw a metal tray sitting on the countertop. He picked it up and, without hesitation, swung it into John's head.

John collapsed on his back. He tried feebly to push himself up on his elbows before giving up and closing his eyes.

Ianto looked around the room for the first time. There was an open box on the counter. Tubes of oil paint had been taken out and laid on the counter. Ianto looked in the box and saw three bottles of liquor, which had been hidden under the paint.

John had been checking his stash.

Ianto looked down at Jack, who'd sat up. He was feeling the side of his head.

He opened his mouth to say something, but never got the chance.

"Oi, what's going on in here?"

Ianto turned around. Alice Guppy was standing there. She took one look at the scene, grabbed her radio, and ran out of the room. She shut the door, and Ianto heard a key turning in the lock. He heard her radioing for backup.

Ianto turned to Jack. "What are we going to do?"

Jack didn't answer.

  


* * *

  
Ianto was taken directly to the segregation wing and put in one of the cells. He waited there for a couple hours before he was summoned to Saxon's office.

Without speaking to Jack, he had no idea what to say. What if his story contradicted something Jack told them?

He was ushered into Saxon's office and told to sit. Saxon was there, as was Emily Holroyd, the principal officer of his wing.

"Well, Mr. Jones," Saxon said, "I hope you're ready to help us understand what happened today."

"I don't have anything to say."

He wanted to tell the truth, but he knew he couldn't. He would never live it down if word got around that he'd snitched on someone. No matter how much the screws tried to convince them otherwise, the only honorable thing was to stand by one's fellow inmates. And that was the only thing Jack would expect of him.

"Let me help you out," Saxon said. "Let me know if I’m on the right track, here. Hart and Harkness are old friends, isn't that right?"

Ianto nodded.

"I know they were. I have their records. I have contacts with the young offender institution they terrorized together. So, they were reunited, and they decided to steal from me and profit from it, didn't they?"

"I don't know anything about that."

Holroyd rolled her eyes. "Come on, Jones. Make this easy for everyone. If Harkness wasn't in on it, what _was_ he doing? You were there."

Saxon sat on the edge of the desk. He put his hands on his knees and sighed. "We're trying to work with you, here. I'm trying to look at this from your perspective. Maybe you're afraid of them. Maybe they threatened you. I can make sure they don't know you cooperated. I'll even move you to another wing, if you want. We already know Hart was involved."

Ianto didn't say anything. Saxon gritted his teeth. His nostrils flared.

"Right, do you want us to call the police? We can have you charged with theft and assault. You could end up getting another year in here. Unless it was Harkness who gave Hart the concussion and stabbed him in the leg…."

Ianto wasn't going to take that bait. "I think if you're going to charge me with something, I'd like my lawyer here. I don't think I should talk to you at all."

Saxon glared at him. He raised a finger and opened his mouth to speak when the phone rang. He cursed his breath and walked around the desk to answer it.

"Yes?" he said into the phone. "Is he sure about that? Well, that's bloody great. I'll go talk to him in a minute."

Saxon hung up and looked at Ianto. "Will you at least tell us if you _weren't_ involved?"

"Like I said, I don't think I should tell you anything." He wasn't going to do anything that could implicate Jack, even plead his own innocence.

"Right," Saxon said. "Well, you might like to know that Mr. Hart swears he was the only one involved. He has an explanation for everything, it seems. Did you like it down the block, Mr. Jones? I hope so, because you're going back for a few days."

Ianto leaned forward. "What the hell for?"

"For refusing to cooperate and wasting my time. Also, so you can't tamper with anything while we finish the investigation. I'm not convinced that Hart's concussion isn't affecting his memory." He turned to Holroyd. "Call for an escort for him, and order a strip search if he hasn't had one already."

Like the library, the segregation wing was in an older part of the prison. Thankfully, plumbing had been put in at some point. But there were no lights. At least there was a window with a view of the sky, so Ianto could see the moon and stars. There's was no furniture, and the single bed was a bench built into the wall and covered with a plastic mattress. It reminded Ianto of when he'd been in police holding cells.

Angered and humiliated by the interrogation and strip search, Ianto sat on the bed and put his head in his hands. He wanted to cry, but he wouldn't. Not when there was a chance people could hear him. He wondered if Jack was in one of the other cells.

He pulled the brown blanket he'd been given around him. The cell was cold. Saxon had said "a few days." Ianto wondered if that meant three exactly, or if it could be more.

He was too exhausted to think about it.

  


* * *

  
In the morning, Mickey brought him breakfast. It was nice to hear to hear a familiar voice.

When Mickey passed the tray through the slot in the door, he said, "There's a little something extra here, courtesy of John Hart."

"What do you mean?" Ianto asked, fearing that his food may have been tampered with.

"He heard you didn't tell on him. He wants to thank you for keeping your cool."

Ianto took the tray. On the side, there was a packet made of folded-up notebook paper. Ianto set the tray on the bed and opened the packet, and found three familiar-looking pills.

John had gotten him codeine somehow.

Ianto looked at the pills, sorely tempted. He'd been clean since arriving at Torchwood, and he'd only needed a brief taste of withdrawal to put him off the stuff. Still, he missed it. There'd been a lot of times when he'd wished he could check out for a while.

It was tempting, just for the next couple days. He wouldn't have to take anymore afterward. He didn't think he was an addict. But then, he was also smart enough to realize he might not know it if he were.

He didn't trust John Hart, though. Maybe John was the sort who could forgive the hit over the head and kick to the ribs so soon, or maybe he was the sort to arrange for the pills to be dipped in rat poison.

It pained him, but Ianto flushed the pills down the toilet.

He was going to have to deal with things sober.

  


* * *

  
Ianto was let out two days later. All things considered, he'd been lucky. There was no sign that he'd lose his library job or any wages or privileges. He didn't doubt that Saxon would be on his case for a while, though, if not for the rest of his sentence.

He went straight to his cell. The noise of the wing was a bit much after the relative quiet he'd had for the past few days.

Jack was in their cell. Ianto was surprised – he'd thought Jack might be down the block, too.

Jack looked relieved to see him. "Are you all right?" he asked.

Ianto nodded. "Yeah. How about you? Are you in any trouble?"

"Not too bad. John did us a favor. Said we weren't involved and that all his injuries were accidental."

"And they believe that?"

Jack shrugged. "No, but what can they do about it?"

Ianto sat down in one of the chairs and exhaled. He felt like he hadn't breathed properly in days.

"Where's John?" he asked.

"Transferred. Saxon had him ghosted out as soon as he realized he was sticking to his story. He was probably glad to have an excuse to get rid of him. Probably wishes he could have gotten rid of me, too, though." Jack frowned. "You shouldn't have gotten involved. It could have ended badly for you."

"What? No 'Thank you' for saving your arse?"

Jack pursed his lips. "If they'd had anything on you, you could have gotten time added to your sentence. Even if you weren't charged with anything."

"Right, and that'd be a huge tragedy, would it?"

"Yes, it would."

Ianto got up and walked over to the window. "Why? It's not like I have anything waiting for me on the outside. My girlfriend's dead. I haven't got a home. I've got bills piling up." He chuckled ruefully. "God, even after all I stole, all I've got left is debt. At this rate, when I get out, I'd be best off robbing a bank. If I didn't get away with it, at least I'd get sent back here."

"Don't say that."

"But it's true, though."

All he had anymore was Torchwood, and Jack.

  


* * *

  
That night, Ianto woke up to Jack saying his name. Jack was sitting on the edge of his bunk in the dark.

"What is it?" Ianto asked, his voice dull with sleep.

"I've been thinking. I want to do something for you. I've got some money put away…"

Ianto shook his head. "No, no. I don't need your money."

"Look, I'm serious. Just enough so you can pay your bills and get a flat. Give you some time to get a job."

"What about Rose? And Spain?"

Jack smiled. "I've got more than enough. Trust me."

Ianto felt ashamed, now, for mentioning his troubles. He shouldn't have said anything. It'd just been a hard few days.

"Look, Jack, no offense, but I don't want to get into anything dodgy…."

"You won't get in trouble. Nobody will be looking for the money. Just don't be conspicuous."

Ianto thought. The idea of the money was planted in his mind, and he imagined having his life sorted out.

"I'll give you anything you want in return," he whispered. "I could earn it."

Jack put a hand on his shoulder. "I don't want anything. Just try to make a good life when you get out. You're still young. You're not an old con like me."

Jack stood and climbed back up to his bunk, leaving Ianto dazed and hopeful.

Ianto knew he wouldn't sleep much more that night.

  


* * *

  
For Christmas, the wing was almost festive. They had a large tree, and there was garland and tinsel draped around the bars. Jack got some of the garland and decorated their cell with it, taping it around the edges of the window.

They had a nice supper for a change, too, and hot cider and biscuits. It was one of Saxon's gestures of generosity that made him almost tolerable as a governor most of the time.

It was an apt time for celebration. Owen had received his parole and would be released soon, and he was in uncharacteristically good spirits over it. For Christmas, he gave Jack and Ianto some contraband he'd collected over time that he didn't think he'd be allowed to take out with him. It was mostly porn.

The only bad thing about Christmas was that lockup came early. Ianto found himself in his cell by mid-afternoon with nothing but the radio and Jack's company.

He'd had the foresight to smuggle some biscuits in his pockets. He gave a couple to Jack, and started making some instant coffee in his electric kettle. He thought instant coffee tasted like tar, but it was better than nothing.

Jack pulled something out from under his pillow. It was wrapped in notebook paper, like John's pills, but was larger.

"Here," he said. "For you."

Ianto opened it. It was a stopwatch. It looked antique.

"It's an heirloom," Jack said.

"Thank you," Ianto said. "You didn't need to." He turned it over. There was some engraving on the back that had been worn away with time. He had no use for it, but was glad to receive it all the same. He would find a use. "Will they let me keep it when I leave, though?"

"We can worry about that, then."

That was true. Ianto still had a while before he would be released. His sentence didn't feel as long and daunting anymore, though. Perhaps he'd adjusted to it.

"I was thinking," Ianto said. "When I do get out, I could write to you, keep in touch. I could even visit if you wanted."

Jack chuckled. "Ianto, when you get out, you're not going to have any use for me."

Ianto frowned. "That's not true."

"Trust me, it is. Torchwood is going to be an unfortunate part of your life that you're going to put behind you."

The kettle was starting to bubble. Ianto looked down and shut it off. "I like you, though."

Jack walked over and put a hand on Ianto's shoulder. "And I like you. So let's just enjoy this for what it is, okay?"

Even a couple months ago, Ianto would have agreed. He would have said that whatever he had with Jack, it was just something to get him through this, whether to get Jack's favor or pass the time.

Now he didn't know. He didn't know when he'd come to like Jack, but he'd realized it around the same time he realized Jack's past couldn't dissuade him. Now, the thought of a night without Jack filled him with unease.

Still, maybe Jack was right. Maybe he was released, none of this would matter anymore. Only time would tell.

For now, it was Christmas, and they had a long day together in their cell. 


End file.
